


In the dark

by xantissa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dark, you can see only the outline of his naked form, all hard muscles and soft skin. He is a man, a big and strong man and you are taken aback by it, because somehow, in your mind he was always so much smaller</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the dark

You lay on the lumpy bed, your body exhausted and aching in all those small places that are more annoying than   
painful. One more ghost, one more demon killed. There is a kind of fierce satisfaction in you, a dark kind of amusement that yeah, you managed to get rid of another evil bastard. One more point on your side. But then you think, it doesn’t really matter. Because it was enough that they had won once.

You close your eyes, feeling the sleep hovering like a shy admirer, just out of your reach. The fatigue is pulling at you stronger and stronger with each passing minute and the sound of the shower coming to you through the flimsy wall you could probably punch through without even bruising your knuckles, lures you into some kind of state between sleep and wakefulness. You prefer it that way actually. It gives your body a chance to rest and it leaves you alert enough to react if something uninvited come into the room.

You don’t stir when he leaves the shower. He is only one of two people on earth you would allow near when you are sleeping. None of your so called friends, none of the few lovers you had, no one could walk around the room without you waking up. Besides him.

You come back to consciousness at the cool touch on your jaw. It takes you a moment to realize why you haven’t reacted before. 

It’s him. Touching you with a kind of slow gentleness that makes your eyes sting and throat tighten painfully. He trails his hand down your face, strokes the heated skin of your neck and suddenly you are afraid to open your eyes. The touch is something you missed so much, for so long. But it’s a touch that should never come from him. There isn’t much you fear in this world, not any more, but this. This terrifies you. 

So you keep your eyes closed. His hands, still damp and cool, almost chilly, reaches lower, the fingers skimming gently over the still fresh scratches on your chest and then you feel the sheet being pulled away from your body and your eyes snap open.

You are glad for the darkness, grateful that you can’t see his face. You know you wouldn’t survive it.

Your chest burns, your lungs work overtime and you are almost hyperventilating. If the situation wasn’t so serious, you would have laughed. Here you are, lying helpless and terrified, sent into a state of near panic not by a demon and a creature of the dark, but by a simple human, a man you know you could take down in a matter of seconds if you wanted to. And the most terrifying thing of all, is that you don’t. You don’t move, don’t even twitch as he straddles your hips in a one smooth, strong movement.

In the dark, you can see only the outline of his naked form, all hard muscles and soft skin. He is a man, a big and strong man and you are taken aback by it, because somehow, in your mind he was always so much smaller. When he leans forward, his body balanced so perfectly above yours, keeping you pinned down just so, you swallow. This, what is happening now, is so beyond your capability to understand your mind simply balks. Turns off, leaving only skin, and warmth and his weight. Only your senses seem to still be working properly. You know, without looking that he is naked. And that keeps you still better than any rope could. You are afraid to move, to reach out or even breath deeper. Because if you do, you might touch his skin. You know it’ll be still wet from the shower, cold now when he was exposed to the crisp, night air.

Your hands twist into the flimsy sheets and you stay put as you feel his cold, but surprisingly confident lips touch your neck and slide slowly up. His teeth scraping gently at your skin heading towards your mouth.

You turn your head away. This, this you can’t do. Kissing him would be like accepting it. You know it doesn’t really matter if you let him kiss you or not. The very fact you hadn’t stopped it already makes you as guilty as him, maybe even more. Because you should know better, you should be the stronger one.

But you aren’t. Somewhere along the way you have lost that sane part of yourself, and it scares you to see, so clearly in his touches, in the way his tongue scrapes against your Adam’s apple, just what you have become. 

“It’s wrong.” You rasp though a clenched throat in a voice that can barely be recognized as human.

He shifts above you, stretching his strong legs so that he is now half lying on you. He moves his hips slowly, pressing his hard cock against the heated skin of your hip and he scrapes his teeth gently over your nipple, making you shudder uncontrollably.

“Does it matter?” He asks quietly, his voice raw and husky in a way you know you should never be able to hear. It was so wrong, it shouldn’t have happened, but at the same time you realize that you will not stop him. You don’t have enough strength. You have cut yourself away from the land of the living so long ago, you body is so starved for any kind of human contact; you are already close to coming. Just from him being so close. 

You can’t or wont stop it, you are too weak and he obviously won’t do it either. So you close your ayes again, pretend, make-believe it’s someone else, some stranger touching you, petting your body with the perfect combination of roughness and gentleness. That it’s a stranger that pulls your underwear down, and that it’s okay to raise your hips that little bit to help him, because it’s not him. It’s just a stranger.

Except, when his hand closes over your already painful erection and strokes with more confidence than you thought possible, you know that this fantasy won’t last. Because while a stranger might touch you with lust and desire, and this quiet urgency, a stranger would never touch you with this much love.

With a choked gasp, you abandon you passive pose. It’s already too late. You reach down, close your hands over those perfectly defined shoulders and pull him up, and God, how could you never notice just how perfect he was? Something inside you twists and screams, and shatters because you are noticing now and it’s beyond wrong.

You kiss him then, with all the longing, the despair, love and want that always seemed to flow just under your skin. Your teeth clash, tongues fight for dominance and you flip him over, pressing his body into the cheap sheets, feeling more elated than you had any right to be, pressing him down, letting your own hands, rough and calloused, skim over his now heated skin, you felt the muscles of his stomach flutter anxiously and your hand traveled lower. You figured, you were damned anyway and kissed him harder, thankful for the silence in the room. You wrap your hand around both your cocks and thrust. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head at the sensation, at the unbelievable pleasure surging through your body and you do it again. It only takes him a second to pick up the rhythm, you have hunted together long enough that your bodies recognize the movements long before you mind does. 

His hands grip your biceps with hard, bruising strengths and you know there will be marks tomorrow, marks you will hate with everything you are. But for now, only the scent of his sweat and the breathless, male grunts that leave his throat exist. You push and grind and heave and it’s over so soon. He makes a half choked sound and you feel his release, hot and musky, splash against your hand and you stomach and you break the kiss, bury your face in his neck and come too, your cheeks wet with tears and your body jerking in the forbidden pleasure and he holds you, strokes you, soothes you.

Lying there, your body cooling, feeling his naked skin beneath you and his hands stroking you in calm, sure movements, you wonder how it all came to this. How it came to be that he is the one stronger here, he is the one comforting you when you know it should be the other way around. 

Lying there, naked in his arms you realize that this cannot happen again. That you have to protect him, for once in your life, do something . He is a man now. A strong, resourceful and so very beautiful man and you have to let him go.

You cannot look him in the eyes, not yet, maybe not ever. Instead, you take his right hand in your and kiss his wrist. You hear his breath catch, but he doesn’t say a word. You stare fixedly at the ring on his hand. You spend almost every waking moment with him and yet, you don’t know when or why he started wearing the silver band. You thought you knew him, knew his desires, knew what was behind those hazel eyes. Now you are not so sure you know anything at all. And what it says about you, that you never noticed anything?

You shift, pull upwards on the bed. You feel him tense, not really sure of your reaction now that the deed was done. But you are as guilty as he, maybe even more because down deep, you know it is all your fault, your responsibility. You pull him close, pull him till his face rests in the crook of your arm and then pull the sheets over you both, cocooning him the circle of cloth and your arms, offering comfort he must have craved for so long, yet hadn’t asked for. 

Tomorrow you will send him on a hunting trip, alone. Say there are things you have to take care of. He’ll look at you with those beautiful eyes and know, see right through you. But he’ll agree. He will go where you send him because that’s what he does. Obeys orders from you, never asking any question.

There is small consolation in that fact. That you weren’t the one who asked, but you know, that somehow it was you who forced this situation.

Tomorrow, you will make damn sure, that you will never again hunt together. Never again share small, cramped motel rooms or spend hours after hours in a car with him. 

Because you have to let him go before you destroy him. Because you can’t loose whatever was left from your family. Because you can’t break him like you broke yourself.

“Dean” You whisper his name, quietly and carefully, when you are sure he is asleep. When you know he won’t hear you “Forgive me, son.”

 

The end


End file.
